Kick Start
by AAnitab
Summary: This is set some time in the not too distant future. But some things change for both Joan and Sherlock between then and now. If you asked them, they would say that the changes have been all for the better. Unless you ask Joan before she's had her morning caffeine. Romantic committed fluffiness and probably smut.


Title: Kick Start

Author: AnitaB

Author's notes: I own nothing from Elementary. No money is made and no infringement intended.

This is set some time in the not too distant future. But some things change for both Joan and Sherlock between then and now. If you asked them, they would say that the changes have been all for the better. Unless you ask Joan before she's had her morning caffeine. Romantic committed smut ahead (probably).

Kick Start

By AnitaB

Chapter one: Morning pick me up

Years had passed, several of them. And he sometimes still drove her so crazy that she seriously contemplated murder. Detective Bell would give her his gun if she asked him for it in the right moment. Or frankly, there were enough lethal things in the brownstone due to Sherlock's many bizarre experiments.

And if he didn't fix this right the hell now, Joan Watson-Holmes was about to kill her husband and gall his soul by actually committing the perfect murder. Something even he wouldn't be able to solve if he weren't the victim and therefore not doing the investigating.

"Sherlock!"

Damn the man. Damn his eyes and his hands and the stubbled line of his jaw. But right now especially, damn his twisty and fascinating mind. "Sherlock! Get the hell in here!"

Not even the lean lines of his bare chest lowered the temperature of her blood when he appeared in the doorway. Not that exposed skin on his part usually cooled her off. "You called..."

"Where is it, Sherlock?"

His innocent face today was even worse than last time. You'd think by now he'd be better at lying to her since he insisted on doing it so often. "Is something missing from our kitchen? Should I call Gregson about a break-in?"

"Yes, something is missing from our kitchen. No, you shouldn't call Gregson unless you mean to confess." Joan gestured at the cabinet behind her with a flick of her fingers. "You stole my coffee and hid it... Again."

"Would I do such a thing?" Sherlock pushed away from the door jamb and walked toward her across the kitchen floor. He was trying to distract her by sliding those long, agile fingers back and forth across the top edge of his pajama pants. It was getting hard to maintain the glare when her eyes kept getting drawn down to watch those fingertips move against his skin. "Why would I ever want you angry at me?"

He'd gotten close enough, almost too close. Joan tucked her disobedient fingers against her ribs to keep them off the chest just a few inches from her own. "I don't know why you want me angry. But you must do it on purpose. You know what it does to me when you hide my coffee. I'm not playing hide and seek with my morning caffeine. Not again."

"You should have tea instead." The battle of wills ended when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her those few inches closer to tuck the curve of her stomach against the front of his body. "Coffee isn't good for my baby."

"Your baby?" Joan bit her lip and let her hands give in to the call of his skin, sliding all ten fingers up the muscles of his arms to cling to his shoulders. Her voice cracked just a little when his hands rubbed exactly where her back was aching just a little, not missing the spot by even an inch. "Not our baby? Isn't that a little illogical? I mean... really..."

"Well, of course, she's yours too." Long fingers stroked over her stomach, stopping when a tiny foot thumped into his palm. His eyes locked on the back of his own hand for several kicks, his face oddly still. But she'd had years to learn to read him. That was the look of emotions so large he was almost afraid of how strong they were. "Our baby. Yours and mine, together."

She could never resist that sound in his voice, that heat in his eyes, in his hands. "Sherlock," He met her halfway, his lips catching the end of his name as they met hers. Nothing was better than Sherlock's kiss, than his arms around her. And yet somehow he made it better, every single time. Ever since the first kiss, it was like she was the addict and he was the drug.

And the damn man knew exactly how to trigger a relapse. The tiniest little twist of his tongue had her making helpless, embarassingly needy little sounds in the back of her throat. The simplest heat of long fingers against her body made her every muscle press closer in a mindless request for more.

And he seemed more than willing to give it to her. Strong hands pulled her tight against the lean strength of his chest until the need for air forced their lips apart. Sherlock rested his forehead against hers and whispered words she almost couldn't hear against her lips. "I can give you a different kind of kick to start the day. Something with no caffeine, no side effects." He brushed a kiss over her lips, sliding one hand down the curve of her stomach to press those long fingers low on her hips. "Clitoral orgasms have been shown in studies to energize a woman more than coffee with no crash later."

It took a moment for her brain to process anything beyond the warmth of his lips so distractingly close to her own. And then she lost all ability to think at all. Joan knew exactly what Sherlock was offering and every single nerve in her body thrummed with the desire to say yes. The things that he could do to her with that mouth between her legs...

"Sherlock," His fingers thrummed against her skin in time with her helpless sound of his name on her lips, inching just a little lower with each moaned syllable.

No his hands didn't drop at all. Her body had lifted, rising up on her toes to invite those fingers lower and get herself closer to those tempting lips. "That wasn't a clear yes or no, love." He gave her a quick taste of a kiss before pulling back enough to give her a even quicker smile. "You know how angry you get with me when I just read you rather than ask you things." One of his hands was moving now, sliding down the outside of her hip to help her knee slide up the outside of his leg. Ever so slowly. "So you have to tell me what you want or I'm going to make you angry again."

It was really, really hard to maintain a scowl when agile, skilled fingers were climbing the back of her thigh and those lips were whispering maddeningly close to her own. /What the hell...\\ "Yes, Sherlock, yes."

"Hold on to me, Joan, tight." Sherlock finally gave her a real kiss as he swept her up into his arms. Her grip tightened when he started taking the stairs two at a time on the way to their bedroom.

So much for her morning coffee.

000


End file.
